


La Botella

by charis_chan



Series: Of Addictions and Bad Habits [3]
Category: Amar a Muerte (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, F/F, Panic Attacks, spanglish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 07:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis_chan/pseuds/charis_chan
Summary: They say the first step is to admit you are an addict.They never tell you that once you do that, you start feeling dirty and small, unworthy and confused.They never tell you that once you admit to it, you’ll start worrying all the time over it.They also never tell you how difficult is to admit it in the first place.Or,The road to recovery is hard and it's always accompanied by heartache and not a little pain.Spanglish and English versions provided within.





	1. Spanglish Version

**Author's Note:**

> So... this grew out of hand.
> 
> I wanted to steer the plot somewhere I wasn't able to and I apologize for it.
> 
> Please, don't hate me too much.

They say the first step is to admit you are an addict.

They never tell you that once you do that, you start feeling dirty and small, unworthy and confused.

They never tell you that once you admit to it, you’ll start worrying all the time over it.

They also never tell you how difficult is to admit it in the first place.

After your dad died, everyone focused on themselves. Eva was busy making sure the company didn’t sink, Guille was busy finding himself, Lucía was busy mourning and even Chivis put all her effort into trying to keep all of you healthy.

You were left to drift.

You were left alone.

Well, mostly alone.

Lucho was there. He was your companion, the one that you could count on to distract yourself, to keep your mind busy and away from your darkest thoughts. He was there whenever you called him, he would drop everything and anything to be by you. He asked the same level of commitment, but at the time, when he could have told you to leave everything behind to elope, you would have done it if only to be away from the pain you were suffering.

Looking back, it’s good he never thought of you as wife material, because at that time, during your most vulnerable moments, you would have say yes in a heartbeat.

Lucho was there, and he honestly did everything he could to make you feel better. He had always been a popular guy, the last son born into a family wealthy enough to have houses in all the mayor cities in the world. He had been the one that, somehow, always knew where the party was and he had the means to make a party happen if there was none around.

He was, looking back, the last guy you could have gotten involved with.

Looking back, your family should have make sure you didn’t hang out with him. Or any of the friends you used to have.

But, how could they know? The kind of activities you did? Your dad never cared who you associated with. He didn’t when you were in Canada and he certainly didn’t when you came back to study your degree. The only thing that he cared for was that you studied to keep the family’s legacy and that you didn’t get into any scandals.

A long time ago, before you dad died, before drama came knocking down your doors, Lucho and you were the perfect kids. No one knew what you were up to and no one cared as long as you didn’t fuck up. You were careful and you kept out of sight. You were there when your families demanded, but also made yourselves scare. You used your families’ money, but enough to make a scene. You name dropped left and right, but only when you knew it wouldn’t come back and bit you in the ass.

Lucho was your rock then. As far as rocks go, he was a wobbly, slippery one.

But he was your rock.

Looking back, you can tell that you two got addicted together, if albeit at different times.

The more he partied, the more he came to rely on alcohol to have a good time. The more he got angry, the more he drank to keep his violence sleeping. The more his family started noticing him and demanding more of him, the more he used mezcal to keep it together, to not fall.

When your dad died, it was almost predictable that he would guide you to alcohol to quiet the pain.

It was the way he found to help himself, and he loved you.

So, he helped you as best as he could.

His family owns several brands of alcohol and he tried them all. His favorite ended up being mezcal.

You grew to love mezcal too.

It was the drink you two shared the most. The one that connected you the most.

And that’s why, now, you can’t forgive Juliana.

XxXxX

You get home as the sun starts to set. You’ve been going to the gym more and more in order to burn some of the jittery energy avoiding alcohol gives you. Juliana and you sat for hours researching ways to help yourself and in most pages you read they always recommended turning to exercise as an outlet.

When you were a kid, you and your siblings used to practice rafting every Saturday, and you always had gymnastic and dance classes after school. You did some swimming during your two years in Canada. Working out and straining your body is nothing you’re not used to. Yet, somehow, now you are bone tired every time you get home after a round at the gym.

You only want a hot meal and fall asleep holding Juliana.

You let your duffle bag drop the moment you enter the apartment and you hang your house keys in the same hook your car ones are. Ever since you got your car back from the tow yard you’ve been squeamish about driving it. You’ve drove Juliana’s car once, but something about driving your own sits ill with you.

Maybe you’ll take Guille’s offer and exchange cars with him. Seeing him driving a soft pink Beetle would be amusing, at least.

No that you’ll use his car that much either. Traffic has been crazy lately and you’d rather walk and use Uber when needed instead of trying to drive through the city. Even now, if was faster for you to walk a mile from the gym than trying to use any kind of transportation.

“Hey,” Juliana’s voice welcomes you from the couch.

You smile tiredly and shuffle to sit with her. She is surrounded by papers and fabrics which grows your smile a little. It’s summer still, but she studies just like she does during term. “Hey,” you say back once you are close enough.

“¿Cómo te fue?”

You shrug. “Me duele todo,” you admit. Today you gave weightlifting a try and you are starting to regret it.

She chuckles and gathers all her papers in a pile. She puts them away and draws you into her arms. “Mi pobre bebé,” she coos. She kisses your cheek. “Hay que protegerla de ese gimnasio tonto.” Her voice is full of mirth and teasing and you snort at her.

“Eres una mensa.”

She pokes your side. “Muchacha pedorra.”

You stick your tongue out to her and cuddle close.

She pokes your side again, this time closer to your ticklish spot, making you flinch away. “Apestas, Valentina. Ve a bañarte.”

“Déjame ser,” you whine.

She laughs. “Ve,” she says, pointing towards the stairs leading to the loft.

You whine louder. Your legs feel like lead.

When Juliana and you chose this apartment, the first thing you fell in love with was how the bedroom is in a loft overseeing the main room. When you wake up in the morning, you can look down and be met with Juliana having coffee at the kitchen or working hard at the sewing machine. The only downside with it is that the open plan doesn’t allow for much other than your beloved white couch and Juliana’s working table and sewing machine. You had wanted for your apartment to have at least two bedrooms, so Juliana could have a proper studio, but you both came to the agreement that you could totally forgo having a dining table in order to take advantage of the spacious loft you have for a bedroom.

The bathroom and it’s huge shower helped sealing the deal too.

Too bad the bathroom is all the way upstairs.

“¡Cárgame!” You slump against her, going totally boneless.

Juliana laughs louder. “No. Pesas una tonelada.”

You huff. “Me estas diciendo gorda,” you state.

“Sí. Y apestosa.” She pushes you away form her. “Ve a bañarte antes de que se te haga costra.”

You pout at her. You try to make your eyes as watery and big as possible and you force your lip to tremble. “¿Porfa? ¿Cárgame?”

“No.”

“Pretty please? With cherry on top?”

“Nope.”

You fake sniff. “¿Ni siquiera por qué estoy usando un ‘Juliana’ original?”

You are wearing one of Juliana’s last semester assignments. She had to think on ways to recycle old clothing, and what she came up with was amazingly practical. As she needed old clothes, you took her to your family house to raid your closet and she zeroed in your old gymnastic outfits. You had outgrow them all years ago, but you kept them around because you liked the colorful fabrics, which is what drew Juliana to them. With all the scraps that she managed to obtain for them, she made a vibrant patchwork running suit for you. The pant leg’s barely reach the middle of your calf and the jacket is sleeveless – she didn’t have that much fabric to work with, after all – and you adore it. She somehow managed to include big pockets on both the pants and the jacket, and the jacket’s hood is wide and sits oh so comfortably on your head. To top it all, it’s perfect for working out in the summer heat and you get to wear your old gymnastic clothes again.

You fell a little more in love with Juliana when she presented it to you, even when she doesn’t seem to return the feeling at the moment.

The look she gives you could be looked up under ‘deadpan’. “La publicidad que le das está cabrona, morra. Le vas a dejar aroma y todos van a saber que esa prenda no sólo es original, sino que también fue usada por Valentina Carvajal.”

You have to laugh at her dry humor. You lunge forward and peck her lips. “Ya entendí. Ya entendí.” You sat up and stretch your arms over your head, making sure your armpit is as close to Juliana as it can be.

“¡Valentina! ¡Que asco!”

You laugh harder. The sense of gloom that have been following around all day dissipates a little and you fight with the impulse to tackle her and kiss her senseless in gratitude.

You got a whiff of yourself when you stretched and she’s right: you stink.

You get up from the couch and make to leave, but Juliana’s grip on your wrist stops you.

“¿Estás mejor?” she asks softly. All the mirth in her eyes from the banter is gone and it’s replaces with gentle concern.

She doesn’t need to elaborate. She was well aware of the dark cloud that had been following you since you woke up and she spent most of the morning trying to distract you from it. She encouraged you to hit the gym twice today and she made sure you were well fed and watered before she sent you out.

You smile. “Sí.” You don’t need to say more. You still feel a little of pressure in your chest and you think that if it were not for Juliana you’d spent the day in bed, but you do feel a little better.

Showering might do the trick to help you ease out your darkness.

You take her hand from your wrist and you try to beam at her. “Si no salgo pronto, ven a buscarme, chiquita,” you invite her with a playful wink.

Juliana just shakes her head and grabs her papers again, leaving you to trek those damn stairs alone.

XxXxX

You love Juliana. You swear to all that’s holy that you do.

Yet, when you met her, for those first minutes, you were so confused. There was a stranger that suddenly came and interrupted your alone time and you were startled and not a little offended. That day Lucho had been stupid and you were fighting. You can’t remember what the fight was about, but you remember how hurt and lost you felt. Sitting at the park, trying to collect yourself before you called for a driver was the best plan you had.

You just wanted to wallow in your own misery and meeting Juliana changed your plans.

She made you laugh.

She honest to God made you laugh.

It was the first time you laughed since your dad’s passing.

Of course you needed to see her again after that.

Looking back, knowing what you know today, you wonder if you didn’t treat Juliana like an addiction too, at least those few first days. You needed to be her friend, you craved her companionship and the ease she made you feel. You frantically looked for her after your first coffee date and you were only happy with her around… if she was busy, you made sure she on longer was and you dragged her around with little input from her.

You were lucky that Juliana didn’t have any friends in the city back then. You would have gone mad if she hadn’t been around for you and it shames you that it took Lupita getting shot for you to realize that Juliana had a life outside your friendship. The guilt had taken you by surprise then and you promised to yourself that you’d start paying attention to Juliana’s needs.

That you’d start listening better.

It puzzled you how she won’t accept any drink back, but you never voiced it. You guessed that she would drink with you once she got to know you better, but once you made that promise to yourself you stopped worrying over it. Once you started listening, you realized that Juliana didn’t have anything against you or your friends, it was simply that she really didn’t like the taste and smell.

You felt so relieved when you figured that out.

After you two started dating, after all the problems with El Alacrán and the switched souls and Lupita’s homophobia and Eva’s head-in-the-ass syndrome, you promised yourself you’d listen more, you’d take more care, you’d love her more deeply. With everything that you two went through, that _she_ went through, it was made obvious that Juliana was even better than you first thought. She is an amazing person, a devoted daughter, a considerate friend and a gentleman of a girlfriend.

She avoids conflict with Eva, even when you know she’s dying to put your sister in her place and all because Eva is important to you. She supported her mom’s relationship, even when you know she was uncomfortable with the idea of her mom being ‘the other woman’. She respects Chivis, she always had, referring to her whenever she’s at your dad’s house for no other reason that she is her elder, even when Chivis had been known to be cold towards her.

Juliana actively seeks to make people happy and when you had that revelation, you swore you’d do everything and anything to make her happy too.

That’s why when she told you you’d be living in your apartment just until you both were out of school, you said you would look for another one as soon as you both graduated.

That’s why when she asked you to stop going to high end restaurants, you were more than happy to let yourself being shown the little dinners that dot your colony.

That’s why when she said that you going out constantly to bars and dance clubs worried her, you started staying in to watch Netflix and chill.

That’s why when she commented she loves cats, you were just about to get one before she caught you and scratched that idea.

That’s why when she asked you to focus on your studies, you promised you will.

That’s why when she asked you to not drink for that week, you promised you wouldn’t.

You broke that two promises and your guilt is still around. You’ve been doing so good until then, trying to make her as happy as she makes you, and you failed.

Her telling you she didn’t believe you could stay sober hurt, hurt so deeply. But she wasn’t wrong.

She had all the reasons not to believe you.

You wanted to change that. You needed her to know she can believe in you.

And that’s why, once you admitted you have a problem, when Juliana suggested to pour all the alcohol in the apartment down the drain, you said yes without thought.

And you did, you poured all the alcohol down the drain and you felt a weird mix of relief and dread grow in your chest. But Juliana was happy and ignoring the dread was easy and something you’re used to. It was worth it.

You poured it all, yes. All except one little bottle you couldn’t part with.

That, you hid in the bathroom.

XxXxX

It’s not the time for panicking.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. You focus on the sound of the water that you left running while you searched for your little bottle.

You open your eye after a moment, looking under the sink once more.

Do not panic.

The bottle is not there.

It’s a small thing, no bigger than the bottles you can buy in an airplane, but it’s gold and not easy to misplace. You remember putting in there, just behind the stacked toilet paper and next to the new hand towe-

The new towels.

They are gone too.

You look next to the sink and yes, one of those towels is there. Juliana must have taken the old ones out and replaced them with the ones Renata gave you as house warming gift. Juliana loved them and she wanted to use them as soon as she got them, but the towels you already had were practically new and she relented in waiting. Juliana must be happy with t-

Juliana was the one putting the towel.

Could-?

With half a mind you turn the shower off and head downstairs as quick as you can.

Juliana turns to see you when she hears you approaching. She looks confused for a second. “Hey, ¿todo bien?” she looks you up and down, then smirks. “¿Necesitas ayuda para desvestirte?”

You come and stand before her, frantic. “¿Dónde está la botella?”

Juliana startles. “¿Qué?

“¿Dónde está la botella?”

Juliana puts her papers away again, and she focuses all her attention on you. There’s something odd about how she tenses, though. “Val, ¿de qué hablas?”

You are starting to tremble. A sea of possibilities is running through your head, one worse than the last, and you fear that she, somehow, did something to it. “La botella,” you repeat. “La botella de mezcal que estaba en el baño.”

You can see the moment comprehension downs on her, how her eyes widen and a frown sets on her mouth. You see comprehension, yes, but also a little bit of anger. “Oh.”

You bristle. “¿Cómo que ‘oh’? Juliana, ¿dónde está la botella?”

She shrugs and her eyes harden. “La tiré.”

Your blood runs cold. Yes, you imagined pretty scary scenarios, but you never thought she’d thrown it out. Take it out to confront you about it? Yes. Send it away with Alvino? Absolutely. Hide it so she could pretend what happened? Why not.

But throw it away?

No. Never. No way.

“¿Cómo pudiste?” you whisper in disbelief.

She narrows her eyes. “Acordamos en tirar todo, Valentina.”

You shake your head. “No.” You can feel the blood leaving your face. You can feel the strength leaving your legs. Your knees wobble and you think you might faint. “No.”

Juliana’s eyes are still hard as she regards you. “¿Ibas a tomártela?”

You take a step back. No only she threw out one of your most important possessions… she is telling you you’d drink it. Why would she think that? How could she, when that bottle-

“¿Por qué?” you whimper out.

Juliana scoffs. “¿Es en serio? ¿De verdad me estás preguntando eso?”

You take another step back, inching closer to the door. There’s a dull sound crashing against your ears, muting everything. “Pero-” You close your mouth with a snap. You can feel the bile coming up.

Juliana’s face is suddenly right in front of you. You didn’t notice when she stood. “¿Pero qué, Valentina?”

You lean to one side, retching. The vomit burns your throat and Juliana can’t step aside quickly enough to avoid a splash. You stare at her, but you can’t see her.

Everything is hazy.

Everything is spiny.

“¿Val?”

You turn away and you blink.

You are in the hallway.

You blink.

You are outside.

You blink.

You are running.

You blink.

You are in front of a liquor store.

You blink.

You are heading down a street.

You blink.

You grab the bottle tighter.

You blink.

You blink.

You blink.

XxXxX

You blink and the cloudy sky meets you. In the back of your mind, you notice that you’re cold and shivering. Your feet pound and your legs ache. Your head feels oh so heavy and your hand is around something smooth and strangely warm.

You blink and look around. You are in a park. The streetlights are on, but they are dim, making it gloomy and dark. You look closer around. The walkways are narrow, the trees clump together in a familiar way. You are in _your_ park, the one you met Juliana in.

You blink and take stock of yourself. You are siting on a bench and it’s a little damp. You shift your weight and the object in your hand becomes obvious. You frown. For a moment you can’t recognize what it is. When you do, you drop it so quick it barely crashed on the ground before you’re up and running again.

You fucked up.

You fucked up.

XxXxX

You run and you ponder.

You run and you think.

You run and you try to describe how you feel.

You try to catalog what feelings are cursing through you.

You try to follow the techniques Camilo taught you when your mom died.

You stop and try to calm your heart. It’s pounding and it’s not because you were running.

You take a deep breath in eight beats and hold it for four beats. You release it in eight and try to hold again in four.

You repeat the process.

One. Two. Three times.

You exhale harshly once and look deep inside you.

What are you feeling?

XxXxX

“¡Valentina!”

Juliana meets you about three streets before you get home. She comes running and embraces you tightly.

You can’t help but flinch at the contact.

She lets go immediately and you want to kick yourself for the pain you see there. You don’t like it when she’s hurting, even when you are hurting too. “Lo siento,” you mumble.

She sighs and you can see how her whole body relax. “¿Dónde estabas? Val, tienes a todos buscándote.”

You frown at that. “¿A todos?”

“Si. Guille, Reni, Eva, mi mamá y Panchito… creo que hasta a Mateo le avisaron.”

It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they be looking for you? Why didn’t they call?

Juliana must have seen the confusion in your face, because she elaborates. “Dejaste tu teléfono, Val. Es casi medianoche.”

Your eyes widen at that. As far as you know you’ve been gone no longer than an hour.

She looks tiredly at you. “¿Val? ¿Tomaste?”

The fact that she asks that question stabs your heart. You guess you can’t blame her, though. You did have a bottle in your hand when you realized you were in the park. “… no estoy segura,” you admit softly.

“¿Val?”

You bite your lip. You can try and explain what happened to you ever since you left home, you can try and make her see how confused you were, how hurt you are, but… you are tired. Really, really, really, really tired.

You just need to answer one question. Just one, and then you’ll go home and sleep.

Everything else you can deal with tomorrow.

“¿Por qué tiraste la botella?”

Juliana’s concerned eyes are suddenly steely. The streetlight cast weird shadows on her face and it’s almost lost how she hardens her jaw. “No creo que sea el momen-”

“¿Por qué tiraste la botella?”

She throws her arms up, clearly exasperated. “¡¿Qué carajos importa una botella?!”

You think that you should be startled with that outburst, that you should be worried over how agitated is Juliana. You should be thinking on ways to explain yourself, you should be trying to make her see your point of view.

Communication is key for any relationship, you should explain yourself, but you need to know.

“Juls, ¿por qué?”

She shakes her head. “Porque eres una alcoholica, Valentina.”

Oh.

Oh.

Makes sense… hurts like hell, but makes sense. You’d like for her to ask before throwing it away. It is – was – one of your most valuable possessions.

You don’t feel like telling her why. You just want to sleep.

You turn around, fully intending to hail a taxi and head to your dad’s. No matter you aren’t sure if you have money right now, if you left your phone at home, you just want to rest.

Juliana’s hand grabs your arm. “¿Val?”

“Me voy con Eva,” you tell her softly.

“¿Qué? ¿Por qué?”

You shrug. You just want to sleep and you know that you don’t want to sleep next Juliana tonight. You childhood bedroom sounds heavenly right now.

“Val, no.” Juliana’s voice is off. Off enough that you turn to see her. There’s… something in her eyes, something you cannot place. This is an emotion you haven’t see in her. “Por favor,” she whispers. “Por favor no te vayas.”

“Juls…”

“Siempre te vas,” she states and you can see there are tears starting to appear. “Hoy no. Por favor. No quiero perderte.”

You shake your head. What is she about? She won’t ever lose you. You are hurt, a little angry and oh so tired, but you’ll come back. You always do. “No me vas a perder,” you state softly. “Pero necesito espacio.”

She blinks and two tears run down her cheeks. You hate seeing her cry. “Por favor, Val.” Her grip on your arm is strong and you note that you might have a bruise come morning. “No sé que hice. No sé porqué estás así. Por favor Val, let’s talk.”

You sigh. You want space. You want her to stop crying. You want to sort out your feeling on your own. You want to reassure her. You want to sleep. You want to make her happy.

“No quiero hablar esta noche,” you relent. “Y quiero dormir en la sala.”

Juliana nods and in any other situation her obvious relief would be comical. “Yo duermo en la sala, sin pedo.”

“Okay.”

You let her guide you home, her hand in yours.

Not for the first time in your life, you wish to get drunk.

XxXxX

“¿Qué es esto?” you asked Lucho when he handed you a small package.

“Un regalo,” he said as if that was obvious.

You rolled your eyes to him. Sometimes he was such a bitch.

You opened the package, trying to think what you were celebrating and if you’d end up doing something sex related as you gift to him. You’d done that often enough that he won’t question it much.

You tended to forget the important dates, after all.

Under the red wrapping paper you were met with a clear box, inexpensive and clearly meant to be tossed aside once opened. What was inside, however, confused you. “¿Mezcal?” It was from his family brand, that you were well aware of, but it was weird for him to give you that…

He usually gave you mezcal without the wrappings.

He seemed oh so proud of himself as he finally sat down next to you. “No es cualquier mezcal.” He pointed to the bottle. “Es una cosecha especial y yo diseñé esa botella,” he stated proudly.

You looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. He was studying design, but you weren’t aware he was working at his family’s company yet. You look at the bottle more closely. It was certainly… different. It was not clear, for starters, but solid gold and almost glittery. There was no label, the brand was craved directly into the glass and it had Lucho’s name at the very top along side a number.

“¿Por qué dice edición Luis Montoya número uno?” you asked him truly curious.

His smile grew wider. “Es agave silvestre, plantado cuando nací.” You gaped then. That was over 25 years ago. “Mi papá me dejó diseñar la edición especial. Lleva mi nombre porque es mío. Se hicieron cien se esas botellas. Cada una es única.”

“Lucho…” You didn’t know what to say. This was not only really expensive, it felt like a he was giving you something truly important to him. “¿Para mí?” you decided to ask. You couldn’t believe that he wanted you to have one… let alone the one you thought was the first one.

He nodded then. “Para que, pase lo que pase, siempre te acuerdes de mí y lo mucho que te quiero.”

You hugged him tight. “Eres un tonto, claro que siempre me voy a acordar de ti. Y te prometo que siempre la voy a guardar.”

He laughed and kissed you firmly. “Más te vale. Eres la única para mí.”

The fact that you couldn’t say the same should have let you know that you felt less for him than he did for you.

At least you kept the promise to never forget him.

Specially after he died ten months later.

XxXxX

“Val… no tenía idea,” Juliana whispers as she hugs you.

After tossing and turning in your bed alone, you relented and climbed down the stairs to find an equally distressed Juliana. What followed was a long and hard chat for you, telling her why that bottle was so important and how you think you might have drink. And how you think you might have not.

You’re still not sure about that. You had a bottle in your hand, but you can’t remember if it was open or not before it crashed to the ground.

You are so confused on how you got it.

You remember the liquor store, yes, but you can’t remember if you paid for it or not.

The shock of knowing that little bottle, the last thing you had of Lucho, is gone was too much for you and you reacted like you haven’t since you mom died.

It’s concerning, to say the least.

You hug Juliana close. “Nunca te dije,” you tell her plainly.

“Eso no es excusa… Val, debí haber sabido que la guardaste por algo… se que es mucho pedir, pero, ¿me perdonas?”

And you are about to tell her yes, when the word gets caught in your throat.

She sighs deeply and nods. “Entiendo.”

You let out a shuddering breath. “Perdón por no decirte… por esconder la botella.”

You know that this is your fault. You should have told her since the beginning, let her know that you wouldn’t part from that bottle no matter what. You made yourself look like the average alcoholic and you can’t fault her for treating you like one.

But it hurts so damn much.

You pull away from her, and cup her cheek in your hand. And yet, it hurts much more not being able to forgive her right away.

“Debí haberte dicho que la encontré, Val… no debí haberla tirado. Estaba un poco enojada,” she confess gently. “Pensé que me estabas mintiendo.”

You smile shakily. “Entiendo,” you echo her words back. “De verdad lo entiendo. Pero, la próxima vez que te enojes conmigo, dímelo, ¿va? Antes de que la cagues.”

She returns your smile at your poor attempt of a joke. “Pinky promise. ¿Y tú me dices cuándo hay algo importante para ti que debo de saber?”

You offer her your pinky. “Pacto.”

She melts in your arms after the oath is done and you cling to her. You are still sad over your bottle, and you think you’ll be for a long time, but you have Juliana with you and that’s the important thing.

You love her, and she’s the only one for you.

 


	2. English version

  


They say the first step is to admit you are an addict.

They never tell you that once you do that, you start feeling dirty and small, unworthy and confused.

They never tell you that once you admit to it, you’ll start worrying all the time over it.

They also never tell you how difficult is to admit it in the first place.

After your dad died, everyone focused on themselves. Eva was busy making sure the company didn’t sink, Guille was busy finding himself, Lucía was busy mourning and even Chivis put all her effort into trying to keep all of you healthy.

You were left to drift.

You were left alone.

Well, mostly alone.

Lucho was there. He was your companion, the one that you could count on to distract yourself, to keep your mind busy and away from your darkest thoughts. He was there whenever you called him, he would drop everything and anything to be by you. He asked the same level of commitment, but at the time, when he could have told you to leave everything behind to elope, you would have done it if only to be away from the pain you were suffering.

Looking back, it’s good he never thought of you as wife material, because at that time, during your most vulnerable moments, you would have say yes in a heartbeat.

Lucho was there, and he honestly did everything he could to make you feel better. He had always been a popular guy, the last son born into a family wealthy enough to have houses in all the mayor cities in the world. He had been the one that, somehow, always knew where the party was and he had the means to make a party happen if there was none around.

He was, looking back, the last guy you could have gotten involved with.

Looking back, your family should have make sure you didn’t hang out with him. Or any of the friends you used to have.

But, how could they know? The kind of activities you did? Your dad never cared who you associated with. He didn’t when you were in Canada and he certainly didn’t when you came back to study your degree. The only thing that he cared for was that you studied to keep the family’s legacy and that you didn’t get into any scandals.

A long time ago, before you dad died, before drama came knocking down your doors, Lucho and you were the perfect kids. No one knew what you were up to and no one cared as long as you didn’t fuck up. You were careful and you kept out of sight. You were there when your families demanded, but also made yourselves scare. You used your families’ money, but enough to make a scene. You name dropped left and right, but only when you knew it wouldn’t come back and bit you in the ass.

Lucho was your rock then. As far as rocks go, he was a wobbly, slippery one.

But he was your rock.

Looking back, you can tell that you two got addicted together, if albeit at different times.

The more he partied, the more he came to rely on alcohol to have a good time. The more he got angry, the more he drank to keep his violence sleeping. The more his family started noticing him and demanding more of him, the more he used mezcal to keep it together, to not fall.

When your dad died, it was almost predictable that he would guide you to alcohol to quiet the pain.

It was the way he found to help himself, and he loved you.

So, he helped you as best as he could.

His family owns several brands of alcohol and he tried them all. His favorite ended up being mezcal.

You grew to love mezcal too.

It was the drink you two shared the most. The one that connected you the most.

And that’s why, now, you can’t forgive Juliana.

XxXxX

You get home as the sun starts to set. You’ve been going to the gym more and more in order to burn some of the jittery energy avoiding alcohol gives you. Juliana and you sat for hours researching ways to help yourself and in most pages you read they always recommended turning to exercise as an outlet.

When you were a kid, you and your siblings used to practice rafting every Saturday, and you always had gymnastic and dance classes after school. You did some swimming during your two years in Canada. Working out and straining your body is nothing you’re not used to. Yet, somehow, now you are bone tired every time you get home after a round at the gym.

You only want a hot meal and fall asleep holding Juliana.

You let your duffle bag drop the moment you enter the apartment and you hang your house keys in the same hook your car ones are. Ever since you got your car back from the tow yard you’ve been squeamish about driving it. You’ve drove Juliana’s car once, but something about driving your own sits ill with you.

Maybe you’ll take Guille’s offer and exchange cars with him. Seeing him driving a soft pink Beetle would be amusing, at least.

No that you’ll use his car that much either. Traffic has been crazy lately and you’d rather walk and use Uber when needed instead of trying to drive through the city. Even now, if was faster for you to walk a mile from the gym than trying to use any kind of transportation.

“Hey,” Juliana’s voice welcomes you from the couch.

You smile tiredly and shuffle to sit with her. She is surrounded by papers and fabrics which grows your smile a little. It’s summer still, but she studies just like she does during term. “Hey,” you say back once you are close enough.

“How’d it go?”

You shrug. “Everything hurts,” you admit. Today you gave weightlifting a try and you are starting to regret it.

She chuckles and gathers all her papers in a pile. She puts them away and draws you into her arms. “My poor baby,” she coos. She kisses your cheek. “We have to protect her from that evil gym.” Her voice is full of mirth and teasing and you snort at her.

“You are a dork.”

She pokes your side. “Silly girl.”

You stick your tongue out to her and cuddle close.

She pokes your side again, this time closer to your ticklish spot, making you flinch away. “You stink, Valentina. Go shower.”

“Let me be,” you whine.

She laughs. “Go,” she says, pointing towards the stairs leading to the loft.

You whine louder. Your legs feel like lead.

When Juliana and you chose this apartment, the first thing you fell in love with was how the bedroom is in a loft overseeing the main room. When you wake up in the morning, you can look down and be met with Juliana having coffee at the kitchen or working hard at the sewing machine. The only downside with it is that the open plan doesn’t allow for much other than your beloved white couch and Juliana’s working table and sewing machine. You had wanted for your apartment to have at least two bedrooms, so Juliana could have a proper studio, but you both came to the agreement that you could totally forgo having a dining table in order to take advantage of the spacious loft you have for a bedroom.

The bathroom and it’s huge shower helped sealing the deal too.

Too bad the bathroom is all the way upstairs.

“Carry me there!” You slump against her, going totally boneless.

Juliana laughs louder. “No. You weight a ton.”

You huff. “You are calling me fat,” you state.

“Yes. And stinky.” She pushes you away form her. “Go shower before you grow an ecosystem.”

You pout at her. You try to make your eyes as watery and big as possible and you force your lip to tremble. “Please? Carry me?”

“No.”

“Pretty please? With cherry on top?”

“Nope.”

You fake sniff. “Not even because I’m wearing an original ‘Juliana’?”

You are wearing one of Juliana’s last semester assignments. She had to think on ways to recycle old clothing, and what she came up with was amazingly practical. As she needed old clothes, you took her to your family house to raid your closet and she zeroed in your old gymnastic outfits. You had outgrow them all years ago, but you kept them around because you liked the colorful fabrics, which is what drew Juliana to them. With all the scraps that she managed to obtain for them, she made a vibrant patchwork running suit for you. The pant leg’s barely reach the middle of your calf and the jacket is sleeveless – she didn’t have that much fabric to work with, after all – and you adore it. She somehow managed to include big pockets on both the pants and the jacket, and the jacket’s hood is wide and sits oh so comfortably on your head. To top it all, it’s perfect for working out in the summer heat and you get to wear your old gymnastic clothes again.

You fell a little more in love with Juliana when she presented it to you, even when she doesn’t seem to return the feeling at the moment.

The look she gives you could be looked up under ‘deadpan’. “That’s such an amazing marketing strategy. It’s gonna stink so bad everybody will know that not only it’s an original piece, it was also worn by Valentina Carvajal.”

You have to laugh at her dry humor. You lunge forward and peck her lips. “I get it. I get it.” You sat up and stretch your arms over your head, making sure your armpit is as close to Juliana as it can be.

“Valentina! Gross!”

You laugh harder. The sense of gloom that have been following around all day dissipates a little and you fight with the impulse to tackle her and kiss her senseless in gratitude.

You got a whiff of yourself when you stretched and she’s right: you stink.

You get up from the couch and make to leave, but Juliana’s grip on your wrist stops you.

“You feeling any better?” she asks softly. All the mirth in her eyes from the banter is gone and it’s replaces with gentle concern.

She doesn’t need to elaborate. She was well aware of the dark cloud that had been following you since you woke up and she spent most of the morning trying to distract you from it. She encouraged you to hit the gym twice today and she made sure you were well fed and watered before she sent you out.

You smile. “Yeah.” You don’t need to say more. You still feel a little of pressure in your chest and you think that if it were not for Juliana you’d spent the day in bed, but you do feel a little better.

Showering might do the trick to help you ease out your darkness.

You take her hand from your wrist and you try to beam at her. “if I don’t come out soon, come get me, sweetie,” you invite her with a playful wink.

Juliana just shakes her head and grabs her papers again, leaving you to trek those damn stairs alone.

XxXxX

You love Juliana. You swear to all that’s holy that you do.

Yet, when you met her, for those first minutes, you were so confused. There was a stranger that suddenly came and interrupted your alone time and you were startled and not a little offended. That day Lucho had been stupid and you were fighting. You can’t remember what the fight was about, but you remember how hurt and lost you felt. Sitting at the park, trying to collect yourself before you called for a driver was the best plan you had.

You just wanted to wallow in your own misery and meeting Juliana changed your plans.

She made you laugh.

She honest to God made you laugh.

It was the first time you laughed since your dad’s passing.

Of course you needed to see her again after that.

Looking back, knowing what you know today, you wonder if you didn’t treat Juliana like an addiction too, at least those few first days. You needed to be her friend, you craved her companionship and the ease she made you feel. You frantically looked for her after your first coffee date and you were only happy with her around… if she was busy, you made sure she on longer was and you dragged her around with little input from her.

You were lucky that Juliana didn’t have any friends in the city back then. You would have gone mad if she hadn’t been around for you and it shames you that it took Lupita getting shot for you to realize that Juliana had a life outside your friendship. The guilt had taken you by surprise then and you promised to yourself that you’d start paying attention to Juliana’s needs.

That you’d start listening better.

It puzzled you how she won’t accept any drink back, but you never voiced it. You guessed that she would drink with you once she got to know you better, but once you made that promise to yourself you stopped worrying over it. Once you started listening, you realized that Juliana didn’t have anything against you or your friends, it was simply that she really didn’t like the taste and smell.

You felt so relieved when you figured that out.

After you two started dating, after all the problems with El Alacrán and the switched souls and Lupita’s homophobia and Eva’s head-in-the-ass syndrome, you promised yourself you’d listen more, you’d take more care, you’d love her more deeply. With everything that you two went through, that _she_ went through, it was made obvious that Juliana was even better than you first thought. She is an amazing person, a devoted daughter, a considerate friend and a gentleman of a girlfriend.

She avoids conflict with Eva, even when you know she’s dying to put your sister in her place and all because Eva is important to you. She supported her mom’s relationship, even when you know she was uncomfortable with the idea of her mom being ‘the other woman’. She respects Chivis, she always had, referring to her whenever she’s at your dad’s house for no other reason that she is her elder, even when Chivis had been known to be cold towards her.

Juliana actively seeks to make people happy and when you had that revelation, you swore you’d do everything and anything to make her happy too.

That’s why when she told you you’d be living in your apartment just until you both were out of school, you said you would look for another one as soon as you both graduated.

That’s why when she asked you to stop going to high end restaurants, you were more than happy to let yourself being shown the little dinners that dot your colony.

That’s why when she said that you going out constantly to bars and dance clubs worried her, you started staying in to watch Netflix and chill.

That’s why when she commented she loves cats, you were just about to get one before she caught you and scratched that idea.

That’s why when she asked you to focus on your studies, you promised you will.

That’s why when she asked you to not drink for that week, you promised you wouldn’t.

You broke that two promises and your guilt is still around. You’ve been doing so good until then, trying to make her as happy as she makes you, and you failed.

Her telling you she didn’t believe you could stay sober hurt, hurt so deeply. But she wasn’t wrong.

She had all the reasons not to believe you.

You wanted to change that. You needed her to know she can believe in you.

And that’s why, once you admitted you have a problem, when Juliana suggested to pour all the alcohol in the apartment down the drain, you said yes without thought.

And you did, you poured all the alcohol down the drain and you felt a weird mix of relief and dread grow in your chest. But Juliana was happy and ignoring the dread was easy and something you’re used to. It was worth it.

You poured it all, yes. All except one little bottle you couldn’t part with.

That, you hid in the bathroom.

XxXxX

It’s not the time for panicking.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. You focus on the sound of the water that you left running while you searched for your little bottle.

You open your eye after a moment, looking under the sink once more.

Do not panic.

The bottle is not there.

It’s a small thing, no bigger than the bottles you can buy in an airplane, but it’s gold and not easy to misplace. You remember putting in there, just behind the stacked toilet paper and next to the new hand towe-

The new towels.

They are gone too.

You look next to the sink and yes, one of those towels is there. Juliana must have taken the old ones out and replaced them with the ones Renata gave you as house warming gift. Juliana loved them and she wanted to use them as soon as she got them, but the towels you already had were practically new and she relented in waiting. Juliana must be happy with t-

Juliana was the one putting the towel.

Could-?

With half a mind you turn the shower off and head downstairs as quick as you can.

Juliana turns to see you when she hears you approaching. She looks confused for a second. “Hey, everything okay?” she looks you up and down, then smirks. “Need any help getting naked?”

You come and stand before her, frantic. “Where’s the bottle?”

Juliana startles. “What?

“Where’s the bottle?”

Juliana puts her papers away again, and she focuses all her attention on you. There’s something odd about how she tenses, though. “Val, what are you talking about?”

You are starting to tremble. A sea of possibilities is running through your head, one worse than the last, and you fear that she, somehow, did something to it. “The bottle,” you repeat. “The bottle of mezcal that was in the bathroom.”

You can see the moment comprehension downs on her, how her eyes widen and a frown sets on her mouth. You see comprehension, yes, but also a little bit of anger. “Oh.”

You bristle. “What do you men ‘oh’ Juliana? Where is the bottle?”

She shrugs and her eyes harden. “I threw it out.”

Your blood runs cold. Yes, you imagined pretty scary scenarios, but you never thought she’d thrown it out. Take it out to confront you about it? Yes. Send it away with Alvino? Absolutely. Hide it so she could pretend what happened? Why not.

But throw it away?

No. Never. No way.

“How could you?” you whisper in disbelief.

She narrows her eyes. “We said we were throwing everything away, Valentina.”

You shake your head. “No.” You can feel the blood leaving your face. You can feel the strength leaving your legs. Your knees wobble and you think you might faint. “No.”

Juliana’s eyes are still hard as she regards you. “Were you going to drink it?”

You take a step back. No only she threw out one of your most important possessions… she is telling you you’d drink it. Why would she think that? How could she, when that bottle-

“Why?” you whimper out.

Juliana scoffs. “Are you for real? Are you really asking me that?”

You take another step back, inching closer to the door. There’s a dull sound crashing against your ears, muting everything. “But-” You close your mouth with a snap. You can feel the bile coming up.

Juliana’s face is suddenly right in front of you. You didn’t notice when she stood. “But what, Valentina?”

You lean to one side, retching. The vomit burns your throat and Juliana can’t step aside quickly enough to avoid a splash. You stare at her, but you can’t see her.

Everything is hazy.

Everything is spiny.

“Val?”

You turn away and you blink.

You are in the hallway.

You blink.

You are outside.

You blink.

You are running.

You blink.

You are in front of a liquor store.

You blink.

You are heading down a street.

You blink.

You grab the bottle tighter.

You blink.

You blink.

You blink.

XxXxX

You blink and the cloudy sky meets you. In the back of your mind, you notice that you’re cold and shivering. Your feet pound and your legs ache. Your head feels oh so heavy and your hand is around something smooth and strangely warm.

You blink and look around. You are in a park. The streetlights are on, but they are dim, making it gloomy and dark. You look closer around. The walkways are narrow, the trees clump together in a familiar way. You are in _your_ park, the one you met Juliana in.

You blink and take stock of yourself. You are siting on a bench and it’s a little damp. You shift your weight and the object in your hand becomes obvious. You frown. For a moment you can’t recognize what it is. When you do, you drop it so quick it barely crashed on the ground before you’re up and running again.

You fucked up.

You fucked up.

XxXxX

You run and you ponder.

You run and you think.

You run and you try to describe how you feel.

You try to catalog what feelings are cursing through you.

You try to follow the techniques Camilo taught you when your mom died.

You stop and try to calm your heart. It’s pounding and it’s not because you were running.

You take a deep breath in eight beats and hold it for four beats. You release it in eight and try to hold again in four.

You repeat the process.

One. Two. Three times.

You exhale harshly once and look deep inside you.

What are you feeling?

XxXxX

“Valentina!”

Juliana meets you about three streets before you get home. She comes running and embraces you tightly.

You can’t help but flinch at the contact.

She lets go immediately and you want to kick yourself for the pain you see there. You don’t like it when she’s hurting, even when you are hurting too. “I’m sorry,” you mumble.

She sighs and you can see how her whole body relax. “Where were you? Val, Everyone is looking for you.”

You frown at that. “Everyone?”

“Yes. Guille, Reni, Eva, mom and Panchito… I think even Mateo is out there.”

It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they be looking for you? Why didn’t they call?

Juliana must have seen the confusion in your face, because she elaborates. “You left your phone. It’s close to midnight.”

Your eyes widen at that. As far as you know you’ve been gone no longer than an hour.

She looks tiredly at you. “Val? Did you drink?”

The fact that she asks that question stabs your heart. You guess you can’t blame her, though. You did have a bottle in your hand when you realized you were in the park. “… I’m not sure,” you admit softly.

“Val?”

You bite your lip. You can try and explain what happened to you ever since you left home, you can try and make her see how confused you were, how hurt you are, but… you are tired. Really, really, really, really tired.

You just need to answer one question. Just one, and then you’ll go home and sleep.

Everything else you can deal with tomorrow.

“Why did you throw the bottle out?”

Juliana’s concerned eyes are suddenly steely. The streetlight cast weird shadows on her face and it’s almost lost how she hardens her jaw. “I don’t think this is the mome-”

“Why did you throw the bottle out”

She throws her arms up, clearly exasperated. “Why the fuck is the bottle important?!”

You think that you should be startled with that outburst, that you should be worried over how agitated is Juliana. You should be thinking on ways to explain yourself, you should be trying to make her see your point of view.

Communication is key for any relationship, you should explain yourself, but you need to know.

“Juls, why?”

She shakes her head. “Because you’re an alcoholic, Valentina.”

Oh.

Oh.

Makes sense… hurts like hell, but makes sense. You’d like for her to ask before throwing it away. It is – was – one of your most valuable possessions.

You don’t feel like telling her why. You just want to sleep.

You turn around, fully intending to hail a taxi and head to your dad’s. No matter you aren’t sure if you have money right now, if you left your phone at home, you just want to rest.

Juliana’s hand grabs your arm. “Val?”

“I’m going with Eva,” you tell her softly.

“What? Why?”

You shrug. You just want to sleep and you know that you don’t want to sleep next Juliana tonight. You childhood bedroom sounds heavenly right now.

“Val, no.” Juliana’s voice is off. Off enough that you turn to see her. There’s… something in her eyes, something you cannot place. This is an emotion you haven’t see in her. “Please,” she whispers. “Please, please don’t leave.”

“Juls…”

“You always leave,” she states and you can see there are tears starting to appear. “Not today. Please. I don’t want to lose you.”

You shake your head. What is she about? She won’t ever lose you. You are hurt, a little angry and oh so tired, but you’ll come back. You always do. “You aren’t losing me,” you state softly. “But I need space.”

She blinks and two tears run down her cheeks. You hate seeing her cry. “Please, Val.” Her grip on your arm is strong and you note that you might have a bruise come morning. “I don’t know what I did. I don’t know why you are upset. Please, Val, let’s talk.”

You sigh. You want space. You want her to stop crying. You want to sort out your feeling on your own. You want to reassure her. You want to sleep. You want to make her happy.

“I don’t wanna talk tonight,” you relent. “And I want to sleep on the couch.”

Juliana nods and in any other situation her obvious relief would be comical. “I’ll sleep on the couch, no worries.”

“Okay.”

You let her guide you home, her hand in yours.

Not for the first time in your life, you wish to get drunk.

XxXxX

“What’s this?” you asked Lucho when he handed you a small package.

“A gift,” he said as if that was obvious.

You rolled your eyes to him. Sometimes he was such a bitch.

You opened the package, trying to think what you were celebrating and if you’d end up doing something sex related as you gift to him. You’d done that often enough that he won’t question it much.

You tended to forget the important dates, after all.

Under the red wrapping paper you were met with a clear box, inexpensive and clearly meant to be tossed aside once opened. What was inside, however, confused you. “Mezcal?” It was from his family brand, that you were well aware of, but it was weird for him to give you that…

He usually gave you mezcal without the wrappings.

He seemed oh so proud of himself as he finally sat down next to you. “Not any mezcal.” He pointed to the bottle. “It’s a special harvest and I designed that bottle,” he stated proudly.

You looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. He was studying design, but you weren’t aware he was working at his family’s company yet. You look at the bottle more closely. It was certainly… different. It was not clear, for starters, but solid gold and almost glittery. There was no label, the brand was craved directly into the glass and it had Lucho’s name at the very top along side a number.

“Why does it writes Luis Montoya number one?” you asked him truly curious.

His smile grew wider. “It’s wild agave, seeded when I was born.” You gaped then. That was over 25 years ago. “Dad let me design the special edition. It has my name because it’s mine. One hundred of those bottles were made. Each is unique.”

“Lucho…” You didn’t know what to say. This was not only really expensive, it felt like a he was giving you something truly important to him. “For me?” you decided to ask. You couldn’t believe that he wanted you to have one… let alone the one you thought was the first one.

He nodded then. “So that, no matter what, you won’t ever forget me and you can remember how much I care for you and love you.”

You hugged him tight. “You are dummy, of course I won’t ever forget you. I promise I’ll always keep it.”

He laughed and kissed you firmly. “You better. You are the only one for me.”

The fact that you couldn’t say the same should have let you know that you felt less for him than he did for you.

At least you kept the promise to never forget him.

Specially after he died ten months later.

XxXxX

“Val… I had no idea,” Juliana whispers as she hugs you.

After tossing and turning in your bed alone, you relented and climbed down the stairs to find an equally distressed Juliana. What followed was a long and hard chat for you, telling her why that bottle was so important and how you think you might have drink. And how you think you might have not.

You’re still not sure about that. You had a bottle in your hand, but you can’t remember if it was open or not before it crashed to the ground.

You are so confused on how you got it.

You remember the liquor store, yes, but you can’t remember if you paid for it or not.

The shock of knowing that little bottle, the last thing you had of Lucho, is gone was too much for you and you reacted like you haven’t since you mom died.

It’s concerning, to say the least.

You hug Juliana close. “I never told you,” you tell her plainly.

“That’s no excuse… Val, I should’ve known that you kept it for a reason… I know it’s a lot to ask, but, would you forgive me?”

And you are about to tell her yes, when the word gets caught in your throat.

She sighs deeply and nods. “I get it.”

You let out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell… sorry I hid the bottle.”

You know that this is your fault. You should have told her since the beginning, let her know that you wouldn’t part from that bottle no matter what. You made yourself look like the average alcoholic and you can’t fault her for treating you like one.

But it hurts so damn much.

You pull away from her, and cup her cheek in your hand. And yet, it hurts much more not being able to forgive her right away.

“I should’ve told you when I found it, Val… I shouldn’t have thrown it away like that. I was a little angry,” she confess gently. “I thought you were lying to me.”

You smile shakily. “I get it,” you echo her words back. “I really get it. Next time, don’t get mad without telling, please? That why you won’t fuck up.”

She returns your smile at your poor attempt of a joke. “Pinky promise. And you will let me know when there’s something important I need to know about?”

You offer her your pinky. “Promise.”

She melts in your arms after the oath is done and you cling to her. You are still sad over your bottle, and you think you’ll be for a long time, but you have Juliana with you and that’s the important thing.

You love her, and she’s the only one for you.

**Author's Note:**

> I think that Lucho's death was forgotten too soon.
> 
> Val loved him, if only as a friend. I really don't think she could've let go of him being killed in front of her that easily.
> 
> This was supposed to be step two, but Valentina had other ideas.


End file.
